What are you?

I see the stars, at night, and know there is no limit to them. There may be a limit, but I don't bother with that, since I can never know it. I see the milky-way, and know the stars within it are beyond number. There may be a number, but I don't bother with that, since I can never know it. My experience shows me that their movement is constant, and reliable. They may or may not be, but I don't bother with that, since I will not live long enough to know. I know winter follows fall, and summer follows spring. One day they may not, but...

So you see: ultimate answers to such things are not really necessary, to one's limited lifespan. Things are the way things are. Until they are some other way. Should that happen, in my lifetime, no doubt I will do what I always do, and adapt to the new reality. I don't need knowledge of such things, until I need that knowledge. Why would I? All knowledge exists. It's only a matter of finding it, or where it is stored. I would be an idiot, to think all that knowledge would fit inside my rather small brain. And so I leave it where it lies. Until I find I have need for some of it.

Where things stand, for now, is that I have access to whatever knowledge I may need, as I have need for it. People often take issue with my style of writing. Hardly surprising, really. Since I rarely, if ever, 'write it'. I start typing and, without a single thought, end up with whatever I've typed. I scan it once, for typos. Then post it. End of story.

This is why I don't argue, or become wound-up with aggressive debaters. I am not arguing. I am not even involved. I merely type responses to what faces me. There is nothing to defend, and no point to convey. If I have a reason for doing any of this, at all, it is because there is so little of this out there. Seeds arrive at my finger tips, and I broadcast them. Maybe they will sprout and root. Maybe not. I have no preference, either way. I have no desire. Especially not to 'win'.

In this way, I am the universe I see, around me. I am part of it. It is me, and I, it. No separation. I love this thing of which I am a part. And so I love myself. And this wondrous love, paradoxically, is the very thing that some will see, and hate. This is difficult to understand, and so I don't try. Love must be balanced by hate. Hate, by love. It exists, and so it must be accepted. Like the stars at night, and the size of it all.

I know what I am. I am all I survey, all I perceive, and all I create. Boundless. Powerful. Eternal. These are concepts that were meant to be conveyed by the term 'God'. To some, they still are. While others assign any definition, at all, to the word, separated from the thing it is meant to describe. So in the simplest of terms: "I am".

I am a human being.That evolved from apes in Africa in the last few hundred thousand years.(with a nod to the Neanderfuckers in my heritage)That evolved from lower mammals.That trace their origin to single celled animals.That emerged from a self replicating soup.On the planet Earth.Which is 4.5 billion years old.In a universe that is 13.75 billion years old.

Being comfortable in that means I don't need reword the same essay over and over again to defend myself.

I see the stars, at night, and know there is no limit to them. There may be a limit, but I don't bother with that, since I can never know it. I see the milky-way, and know the stars within it are beyond number. There may be a number, but I don't bother with that, since I can never know it.

This is insightful, but unfortunately totally derivative of Borge's Library of Babel. You get a 'C'.

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I know what I am. I am all I survey, all I perceive, and all I create. Boundless. Powerful. Eternal. These are concepts that were meant to be conveyed by the term 'God'.

I don't necessarily think this is true. It's only true for certain people with a certain perspective.

I get a 'C'? Who is Borge, anyway? I should explain, that I read almost nothing of anybody. Certainly nothing by 'philosophers'. The only authors that stand out in my life have been: Enid Blyton. Clifford D. Simak. Larry Niven. James Blish. Lao Tzu.

I get a 'C'? Who is Borge, anyway? I should explain, that I read almost nothing of anybody. Certainly nothing by 'philosophers'.

By "Borge" I meant Jorge Luis Borges (I typoed his name, so now I get a 'C'). He was a short story writer who dealt with a number of topics, but most of his stories relate to the concept of infinity. Your point about things beyond the human capacity to understand being infinite for any practical purposes was part of the short story I mentioned.

I get a 'C'? Who is Borge, anyway? I should explain, that I read almost nothing of anybody. Certainly nothing by 'philosophers'. The only authors that stand out in my life have been: Enid Blyton. Clifford D. Simak. Larry Niven. James Blish. Lao Tzu.

I wonder: do you have any purpose beyond exalting your own sense of self-worth on the internet? Do you crave anything beyond the attention of others? Is it wisdom you seek? Do you hope to teach? Or is it all just a good excuse to listen to your own voice?

Plato was right; underneath this human drama is some kind of informational battle being raged. Constructions beyond the imagination arise from nothingness and lumber over four-dimensional wastelands in battle, then grapple like Turkish oil wrestlers, penetrate, and explode into flowers... as your eye focuses on the velveteen petals you see electronic circuits bloom to the surface, and then turn into the waterways of a complex ancient kingdom, then the DNA of a frog contorting into human form, then even a three-dimensional outline and equation for the momentum of evolution.

Nothing in reality makes sense as itself ("sui generis" as the hipsters say). Everything is a product of something else. I am still an atheist, but I believe that some pre/post-material and pre/post-spaciotemporal state exists, that it is one and the same both amaterial and atemporal, and that it is the place of origin for what we know of as reality, through a method that is more synchronous than linear, but still maintains a logically causal relationship.

Wolfgang, it helps to remember that crow is more playful than he is stern. In fact, I don't think he's stern at all; he just seems that way.

Dylar, I hope you are well on your way to world conquest...

We're all here for a reason. By here I mean metal hall. Not all people belong on earth; in fact, many of them belong in filler meat product. Boneless pork rectums, or low-scorers on Raven's matrices? Either way, nature (and the higher order of information underlying the univere) wins.